The event that had become the basis for her obsession had occurred one sunny afternoon just after her fifteenth birthday. She had been in the loft of her family’s small barn, hiding from her mother’s constant nagging attention. She’d been lying on a great pile of hay, with her library books around her when Jake had come in from the field.
At eighteen, he was tall, lanky, and more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. A friend of her older brother, he’d been staying in their barn that summer, doing some work around their modest farm to earn his keep. There was still a bruise, high on his tanned cheekbone, from his last altercation with his domineering step-father who bullied him unmercifully. That final fight had drove Jake out of his home and into the Foreman’s barn. There just wasn’t room in their tiny home to accommodate him there, but her family had done what they could to make him feel welcome.
When he entered the barn, she held her breath, hoping to avoid detection. If he saw her up there he’d tell her mother where she was and then she’d be forced to go back to the kitchen to learn how to be a “proper wife.”
She had zero interest in being a farmer’s slave/mate, but her mother still felt it was her mission in life to demonstrate to her daughter what was required of a woman living in their rural Alberta community. As far as Kayla was concerned that meant a lifetime of drudgery and poverty, without any relief in sight. A two bedroom house with six people sharing a single ancient bathroom was not her idea of living.
Even at 15, Kayla, or Katie as she was known then, did not want to emulate her mother’s meager existence. She wanted money and power, and she wasn’t going to get that by learning how to bake the perfect pie crust, or how to get cow manure stains out of area rugs. Education was the key to her future, so she spent every spare moment absorbed in the books that introduced her to new ideas and other worlds. Bigger, more important worlds than the dismal one she currently occupied. The only bright spot in her tiny town was Jake, and he was completely disinterested in her.
Looking down through the cracks in the floor, she saw him pass directly beneath her. He had taken off his hat, and his blonde hair was dark with sweat. Dust motes swirled around him in the late afternoon sunshine as he walked with some urgency toward the small pallet he slept on in one of the empty stalls. There was a small, blue pitcher on a table there and he dipped a rag into it, raised the rag over his head, and dripped water onto his upturned face in an attempt to cool off.
She watched as he dipped the cloth into the pitcher again and brought it to the back of his neck and then inside the collar of his plaid work shirt. Impatiently, he ripped open the snaps on his shirt and threw it on the pallet. Leaning down, he picked up the water container, strode to the middle of the barn floor where there was a drain, and dumped the water over his head. It sluiced down over his tanned, smooth skin and she drank in the sight of him, shiny and slick with moisture.
She’d watched him at the local watering hole this past summer, and she certainly wasn’t the only girl there who’d noticed how broad his shoulders had gotten or the way golden hairs had sprouted below his belly button. But seeing him here was different. More intimate. Like he was performing just for her. She felt an odd tightening between her legs as she heard him sigh in relief.
He shook his head like a dog and his shaggy hair sent droplets of water flying around him. Reaching for the clean, but threadbare towel hanging over the side of the stall, he rubbed his chest and shoulders with it as he walked back into the stall where he’d left his shirt. He set the pitcher down on the table and turned toward the wall.
She expected him to leave at this point, but instead he seemed to be taking an unnecessarily long time drying his body. When she performed this task it took all of 30 seconds, but Jake was prolonging the act of toweling off for some reason. His back was to her, so she couldn’t see his expression, but she imagined he had that quiet, concentrated look on his face that she knew so well. The same look that overcame him when he was performing a task that needed his complete focus, like mending a fence or feeding an animal.
In the complete silence of the barn, the sound of a zipper going down was unmistakable. She nearly giggled, thinking he was going to change his clothes right in front of her, but he didn’t remove his jeans. Instead he seemed to be reaching inside them. Is he going to urinate right here in the barn? She wondered, shocked. That seemed an odd thing to do when there were all kinds of bushes out back. But she didn’t hear the distinctive sound of urine hitting the floor. Wildly curious, she moved out of her nest of hay so she could get a better view of what he was doing. She perched on a bale, and peered down from directly above him, glad he seemed too distracted to notice when some hay she’d disturbed fell around him through the cracks in the loft floor.
The first thing she noticed from her new position was the harsh, almost pained expression on Jake’s angular face. His white teeth were clenched and his gaze was focused on the wall in front of him. She angled her position and was able to see a picture was taped there. She couldn’t make out the details, but it looked like a snap shot of Jake’s girlfriend, Hannah, in her stupid, red and white cheerleading uniform. Hannah with the enormous chest and complete disinterest in her boyfriend’s tragic living conditions.
Looking down from Jake’s transfixed face, she allowed her gaze to touch on his naked chest, the tiny brown nipples and the ripples of his tight abdomen. Then she noticed what he was doing. She could see his penis. He was rubbing his hand up and down the shaft in gradually quickening jerks. He was masturbating. She had three brothers, so she had heard them talk about ‘spanking the monkey’ before, but she’d been totally grossed out by the thought of them doing that. Seeing Jake touch himself, however, was shocking and wildly exciting. Watching him, sharing this with him, even without his knowledge, she felt that tingling between her thighs intensify and she pressed her palm there to relieve the pressure.
It didn’t help, so she experimented with cupping the mound between her coltish legs. She mimicked the motion of Jake’s fist as he boldly pumped his penis faster and faster. She pressed her fingers as deep as her denim shorts would allow and it felt divine. Up and down his hand went, and she watched hungrily as he flexed his hips in rhythm with his palm. She widened her stance on the bale of hay and was delighted when this new position allowed her better access to that odd sensitive spot she’d never really noticed before but which now demanded her attention.
Jake was making sounds now. Grunts and harsh exhalations that were both animalistic and beautiful in their urgency. She found that she was fighting to hold back similar mewling sounds in her own throat as the pleasure between her legs intensified.
“Oh God!” Jake cried, throwing back his head. His hand was moving so quickly that she could barely track its movements and his flesh made a sharp slapping sound as he pumped his fist wildly.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a car door slamming outside, and she could hear her brother, Robert, calling Jake’s name. She immediately yanked her hand away from where it had been buried in her crotch and edged as far away from the ledge as possible. If her brother saw what she had been doing she would die of embarrassment.
Below her, Jake stopped touching himself and froze like a rabbit scenting a predator. “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” he called, his voice surprisingly normal-sounding considering what he’d been doing just seconds before. He hung his head and took several deep breaths. When he was calm, he tucked himself back in his jeans with a pained expression on his face and rearranged the tail of his shirt to disguise his aroused state.
She watched him leave, silently bereft at being left alone in her own fevered condition. Closing her eyes, she could still see him there, touching himself and making those oddly arousing sounds in the back of his throat. Lying back on the hay, she moved her hand between her thighs again and wondered what it would be like if Jake ever kissed her. She squirmed in delight as the thought sent another wave of heat rushing through her. Clasping her thighs tightly together around her hand, she ground herself against her fingers and felt something wonderful loosen inside her, and then pleasure washed over her. Her quiet cry of exultation echoed in the dim barn, and she rolled to her side, thinking of that lonely boy who never once thought of her.
“I think I want him to be turned on by it,” Kayla said, looking at Miss Bright with challenge bright in her green eyes. “Yup, he should like being watched. A lot.” Why hold back? It was her fantasy and she needed to communicate what she wanted. This Miss Bright seemed uncommonly intuitive, but she couldn’t read minds. Or could she? Nothing would really surprise her about this woman.
Kayla had to be honest and quit worrying about being judged. What did she have to be embarrassed about anyway? Sex is a biological function and people are driven by their need for it. Wanting it is normal. She’d been denying herself for so long that she’d become some kind of repressed, workaholic spinster. Pursuing her fantasy was probably the most human thing she’d done in awhile. She was finished with being ashamed of her desires.
Miss Bright nodded. “I think I know just the gentleman. You are in for a treat.”
“Really?” Kayla asked, eagerly. “You already have someone in mind?”
“Oh. Yes. He’ll be perfect. But I have one last question. Don’t you think he would want to punish you? Just a little. For watching him?”
Kayla’s eyes widened. Was this woman serious? Did she look like she wanted someone to hurt her? A masochist? “What are we talking about here? A firm nipple twist? Or cigarette burns on my ass? Definitely do not check that box.”
Finally, the unshakeable Miss Bright looked a bit flustered. “Cigarette burns? Oh my. No. Nothing like that. Pain to that degree isn’t really something we encourage in our scenarios. It certainly has its place in BDSM culture, but it takes time and trust to build those relationships. So, I would never suggest something like that. What I was thinking was that maybe you might enjoy a little spanking. Many women do. A little twinge of pain can often intensify the pleasure.”
How the hell did this woman know she had always entertained a mild curiosity about spanking? It was unnerving how she seemed to know so much about her preferences. Things she’d never even admitted to herself. At least not seriously. “That sounds interesting, but I’m not really sure it’s something I’d be into. Do I have to commit to that now?”
“Absolutely not. It was just a suggestion. I was thinking about your scenario and how it would play out. Since you have stated that your previous sexual encounters have been fairly conventional, it seemed like the situation was perfect to explore something a little bit out of your comfort zone. But never-mind. You can definitely let him know at the scene if you’d like to try it.”
“How will that go exactly? Excuse me, Mr. Gigolo, but I’ve decided that I’d like you to beat the hell out of my ass with a hairbrush before you go down on me.”
“Well, yes, you could say something like that. But it might spoil the mood a little. Why don’t we come up with some safe words that you can work into your conversation that will indicate the direction you want to take.”
“Conversation? There’s going to be conversation?”
“Of course. Did you imagine that you wouldn’t be talking during your scene? Is that something you’d prefer? We can certainly accommodate you, but it probably won’t feel all that natural without a little banter between you,”
“Hmmm…I honestly never thought about it.”
“So, then dirty talk is not something you’d be interested in?”
Wow, Kayla thought. This is getting positively eerie. How did this woman know she loved a vocal man. Not one of those weirdoes who’s into calling women degrading names in bed though. Nothing made her pussy pucker faster than some woman-hater using demeaning language to get himself off. Talk about twisted.
That had happened to her recently. In a motel room in Dallas, she’d been unsuccessfully attempting to live out her fantasy with a rodeo champion. Things had been going okay, not exactly fantasy material, but pretty raw and exciting. Then he’d demanded that she get down on her knees and suck him off like a good little slut. She’d paused, not liking the phrase, but had been prepared to go along with it, thinking that it was a game and he’d reciprocate afterward. Then he’d grabbed her by the hair, attempted to gag her by ramming his monster cock down her throat, and added insult to injury by calling her a filthy whore as he did it.
She’d given his balls a good squeeze and left the room with her blouse open and her pride bruised. That had been her last sexual encounter, more than eight months ago. Definitely not what she had in mind when she thought of sexy talk.
If a man really wanted to turn her on, all he had to do was tell her exactly what he wanted to do to her, how much she was going to love it, and how good it felt when he did it to her. She felt a little shiver of anticipation slide through her just thinking about the way a man’s voice became so rough and guttural when he described how he was going to fuck her.
“Can you put an extra large check mark next to the dirty talk box, please?” Kayla said with a grin.
Miss Bright nodded her head and returned Kayla’s smile. “Dirty talk will definitely be on the menu then.” She made a show of circling something on Kayla’s application and then returned her attention to her client. “Is there any other requirements then? I imagine that since you're contemplating being spanked, you’d want to assume the submissive role? You want him to be in charge?”
Kayla though about all the people at work. The men in particular who seemed incapable of doing anything without her input or direction. She was proud to be respected and even feared a little, but in her fantasy she didn’t want all the responsibility resting on her. It wasn’t exactly politically correct, but some small part of her longed to be dominated. At least for a few minutes. She could give up control for the sake of her fantasy, couldn’t she?
“How about we start out with him in charge, but them we play it by ear. Maybe we’ll switch things up as things progress.” Kayla suggested.
“I think this is shaping up to be a very interesting fantasy after all,” Miss Bright said, closing the folder. She took a card from a holder on her desk and handed it to Kayla. “If you have anything you’d like to add or change, please let me know and we’ll do our best to make it happen. Now, is there anything else?”
“Not really. But can you give me a hint about my cowboy? What he looks like?”
“Well, if the gentleman I’m thinking of is available, then you’re going to be very pleased. Not only is he uncommonly attractive, but I believe he worked at an equestrian stable. In Australia somewhere. He’s not exactly a cowboy in the traditional North American sense, but very close to your ideal.”
“Please tell me he still has the accent.”
“No. I’m sorry. He’s lost most of it.”
“Too bad. But he sounds amazing. Are you sure he’s okay with all of this?”
Miss Bright reached across the desk and patted Kayla’s hand in a reassuring gesture that was uncharacteristically warm and friendly. She quickly pulled back and resumed her professional distance. “I’m absolutely certain that he will be quite happy to satisfy all your needs. Why wouldn’t he? You’re a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman. Any man would be thrilled for the opportunity to pleasure you.”
“If I’m all those things, then why am I paying for sex?”
“You are not paying for sex. You are paying to have your fantasy fulfilled. There’s a very big difference.”
“Perhaps. But I still feel like a pervert.”
“Don’t deceive yourself. Everyone has a bit of pervert in them. You’re just willing to let the little devil come out and play. Now. One more thing. What about filming?”
“Filming?”
“Yes. Usually we film all of our scenarios so the client can relive their fantasies in the privacy of their own homes. We also use the footage for training purposes. But if you’re opposed to this practice, we can either refrain from filming, or you’re welcome to wear a small mask to protect your privacy.”
“A mask? Why would I want to wear a mask?”
“Well, some individuals are very concerned about their likeness popping up on the internet somewhere. Many careers have been ruined over a risque sex tape getting into the wrong hands. We are extremely diligent about ensuring the discretion of our clients, but they are still rightfully paranoid on the subject. So, if they wear a mask, their identity is less likely to be compromised. Also, some clients are concerned about being recognized by their Scene Facilitators out in the real world. In your case, he doesn’t live here in Vancouver, but he does travel extensively. If you wore a mask you wouldn’t have to worry about the awkwardness of encountering each other again.”
“Will he be wearing a mask?” She hoped not. Good Lord. If he was wearing a Zorro mask while he jerked off she was going to start laughing. This was starting to sound like a masquerade ball rather than her fantasy.
“I suppose he could if you desired it, but I think it might be distracting. Not to mention, a bit our of character for a cowboy. Unless he wore one of those bandanna-type of masks, like a train robber. But it could make any oral activities quite challenging. What is your preference? Mask or no mask? Filming or not?”
Kayla thought for a moment. If she said “no” to the filming there really wasn’t any guarantee that they wouldn’t go ahead and film anyway. But she wouldn’t get a copy of the footage. And she was highly intrigued by the idea of being able to see herself on screen, having sex, and living out her fantasy. She squeezed her thighs together imaging being able to watch her cowboy pleasure himself as often as her DVD player would allow.
“I think you can go ahead with the filming, but I’ll probably wear a small mask and possibly a wig, just in case your security measures fail and the video gets out,” Kayla said, watching with fascination as Miss Bright’s face flushed in indignation.
It obviously took a mighty effort not to show her irritation at Kayla’s insult, but the cool blonde’s voice was calm when she responded. “I can assure you that will not happen. We have filmed more than three thousand scenarios, and not one of those has become public. You really have nothing to worry about.”
Kayla shrugged. “Still. I’d be ruined if any of my employees stumbled across it, so a disguise is probably in my best interest. For me. Not for him. I don’t think I’ll really notice the mask on me. Who knows. Maybe it will add to the whole role-playing fantasy. But I want to see his face. His expressions. Everything. And a mask will take away from that.”
Miss Bright checked one final box and closed the folder again. “I agree. Some women like the anonymity of the mask. It makes their SF seem less human. More of an object. But like you, I think the point of living out a fantasy is to connect with another person, if only on a very sexual level. Masks can obstruct that connection.”
Is that what she was looking for? Kayla asked herself. A connection? No. She didn’t want that at all. She really just needed to see the raw emotion on his face as he touched himself. Jake’s expression still haunted her and she was hoping to erase that image with something more tangible. Hopefully, her SF would not resemble a gasping fish as he climaxed. That would not be sexy at all.
“So, that’s it? This is actually happening?” Kayla stood up and smoother her skirt down her thighs with her suddenly sweaty palms.
Miss Bright also stood and put the folder under her left arm. Coming around the desk she gestured towards the double mahogany doors to the hall. “But of course. Let me walk you out to the elevator. Our offices can be a bit of a labyrinth.” She lead Kayla out of her office and they proceeded down the hall past several luxurious yet empty offices.
Miss Bright nodded at the flawless Asian receptionist as they entered the waiting area of D.O.V. Inc. She turned to Kayla as they reached the impressive art deco elevator and reached out to shake her hand. “A copy of your contract will be in your email inbox by the end of the day and expect another with all the details of your assignation to follow sometime in the next few days. We already have your certified check. So, it would appear that everything is in order. Thank you for coming in today. I hope your fantasy is everything you could want. And more. You’ll be hearing from me soon.” She smiled and gave a little wink.
Kayla thanked Miss Bright and entered the elevator alone. As the door shut she pushed the Main Floor button on the panel and contemplated the plan she had just set in motion. Her fantasy was actually going to happen. What if it was a complete disappointment? Would she be forced to live the rest of her life trying to capture those precious moments in the barn with Jake and failing miserably?
Watching the numbers light up as the elevator descended, Kayla decided she really had nothing to lose. Except her pride. And she was pretty sure that had left her the second she’d contacted D.O.V. Inc. The mysterious business card with just the words 'Your Fantasy' and a phone number printed on it had been slipped under the door of her London hotel room at the International Sales and Marketing Conference last month. She still wasn’t sure what had possessed her to call. Hopefully that one moment of insanity would help her to leave her past behind her, where it belonged, and focus on the future.